


you're ripped at every edge but you're a masterpiece

by gruumpy_cat



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Bisexuality, Breakups, Depression, Drama, Drug Addiction, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Love Triangle, Romance, Smut, Star-crossed, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:08:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28247412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gruumpy_cat/pseuds/gruumpy_cat
Summary: i don't need your love,i just want a taste.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Lily Evans Potter, background sirius black/james potter
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27





	you're ripped at every edge but you're a masterpiece

**Author's Note:**

> **written for the ts8 at midnight & the drunken shenanigans & the lex and his faves challenges @ fanfictalk**  
> story title is from colors by halsey / story summary is from 3am by boy epic / inspired by illicit affairs by taylor swift

It’s a bleak and starless night as I sit perched on the stone wall surrounding the Astronomy Tower, the smoke from a cigarette I bummed from Marlene obscuring my view across the vast expanse of the Scottish Highlands, and the deep darkness beyond the horizon, the way my heart jumps at the thought of it, it's all too much, too tempting, too terrifying, so I turn my back on the wilderness, on the darkness that's dancing on the edge of my heart, tempting, so fucking tempting, and I focus instead on the loud music and the swarm of bodies partying inside the tower.

I puff out the smoke, my hand shaking and the ash from the blood-red cigarette falls down on my dress, burning it slightly, but I barely notice. I feel detached, almost as if I’m looking at these people, this party, from some distant mountain, drowned in fog and numbness. Hollow. That’s the word I bitterly think to myself when I bring the bottle of Firewhisky up to my lips and try to drown out the hollow feeling with the scorching liquid. 

There’s a war raging outside the walls of this castle and here we are, celebrating a Quidditch victory. I start laughing, as if I’m enjoying some sick private joke, and my throat burns with acid, eyes stinging from the smoke and sweat and rage. 

In a tower full of people, full of friends, I feel all alone. Alone and desperate.

“Alright, Evans?” A rough voice says, and for a moment I think it’s James, the hero of today’s match, come to flirt, and maybe I wouldn’t have minded the distraction, not now, not today, when it seems like everything is falling apart, but the voice is lower and when I look up, my heart constricts and my skin feels like there’s an electric undercurrent running through me because I feel like I’m looking into a mirror, into dead eyes, black, starless like this night, black instead of green, but dead and alone all the same. 

Sirius doesn’t wait for an answer before he settles down next to me, taking out a pack of smokes and lighting up one before he speaks again. “You’re the life of the party,” he says, and somehow smiles, but it doesn’t feel genuine, doesn’t reach his eyes even though he seems electrified, on edge, dripping with something just out of my reach. 

I drink more, silently, avoiding his eyes, and instead look on, look at James, who’s dancing shirtless on top of the makeshift table in the middle of the room. He catches me staring, sees Sirius next to me and waves at us drunkenly, before I look away, wanting desperately to be alone but also wanting to drown myself in these delirious feelings of everyone around me. If only James had come over, he might’ve made me forget, but James doesn’t know what war feels like, doesn’t know what it means to suffer cruelty, doesn’t know what being afraid to visit Hogsmeade does to you. Not yet, at least.

I envy him, I envy all of them, dancing, seemingly carefree, even though I know this, the party and Quidditch, it’s all a distraction, but for me, it’s not enough. I glance over my shoulder at the deep darkness outside and again feel the pull towards it, a devil whispering in my ear.

“It’s the end of the world, Sirius,” I murmur between drinks, not really thinking he’d hear me, but he’s close, so close I can smell the scent of his aftershave, and he does hear. Sirius raises an eyebrow and takes the bottle from me, gulping down the whisky, and I think I should go, move away from him, from this strange magnetic feeling between us, from the truth I didn’t want to say out loud, but I’m frozen still. 

It’s inexplicable why I’m still next to him, someone with whom I only occasionally talk, but the look in his eyes makes me want to stay. 

He shakes his head, and there’s nothing of his trademark mischief in that one, forlorn move. “Mary?” he says, speaking her name so low that I have to strain to hear him, but my insides feel shattered when I remember her smiling face, now gone, dead, only seventeen and already buried in the cold, hard ground. 

I’m dizzy already, and I feel like I’m standing on a precipice, right on the cliffside before jumping into the deep ocean and drowning in the salty water, but I drink more, finishing off the bottle with Sirius sitting next to me, still smoking, still silent, just stealing glances at me, and I look at him, unabashedly, the strap of my dress falling off my shoulder and I know he sees, but he quickly looks away, moving a couple of inches further, our skin no longer touching. 

But it seems no one is paying attention to us, now covered in shadows, and the moment feels illicit, the thought of James at the back of my mind, of their friendship, but the whisky is making me bold, and I reach out, put my hand over his, daring, almost frenzied, and he catches my eye finally, not moving away but not making a move either.

I lean closer to him, careful so no one sees, and I can feel him tense up. “I want to feel alive,” I whisper, and my voice must sound desperate because he doesn’t flinch away from me. 

“Meet me in that abandoned classroom on the seventh floor,” he murmurs and he must be drunk as well, his words slightly slurred, and when he straightens up and walks away, tall and dark and handsome, he doesn’t look back, and maybe he thinks I won’t follow, or maybe he hopes I won’t, but my legs move on their own and I’m almost rushing after him, through the mass of people, through the empty corridors, until we’re both flushed behind locked doors, staring at each other under the faint light of moonlight shining down on us through the small windows. 

I stare at him, the haunted look in his eyes mirroring my own, the dark hair falling into them making me want to touch it, his newest tattoo drawing my eye, disappearing under his shirt, and we stand there in silence, but it doesn’t feel like silence, it feels like there’s music playing, just for us, the music of longing for something real, for the darkness to go away, of clutching on each other like lifelines when we’re barely even touching. 

I tremble under his gaze, and my hands shake, and I think I might burst out of my own skin until he finally, lazily smiles, some internal battle won, some voice of reason silenced, and he takes out something from his back pocket, two small vials filled with white powder. “Come on,” he says, and I move closer, and he gives me one of the vials, uncorking it for me. “This’ll numb the pain.” 

He doesn’t need to tell me twice because this has to feel better than the empty, hollow feeling destroying me inside, and I take the hit, and it feels like I’m leaping from a bridge, this incredible, mercurial high, and all the while I keep looking at him, at his eyes, his lips, and when he takes a hit, there’s no space between us, it disintegrates into a million pieces, and I hear him whisper this is a mistake, but mistakes don’t feel the way his mouth does on mine, raw and urgent, and I’m tearing at his clothes, dumping them on the ground, his arms all over me, and time slows down when he carefully takes one of the straps of my dress and pulls it down, looking into my eyes, a desperate look to him, and I nod, once, before kissing him again, wrapping my hands in his dark hair. He’s a fucking masterpiece. 

We’re on the edge of the world, the oblivion real when he pushes me against the cold stone wall, kissing down my neck, between my tits, sucking on a hard nipple before his hand is touching me, my thighs clenched around it and I moan when his fingers enter me, his mouth back on mine, teeth clashing, silencing my throaty groans. I wrap my legs around him, looking straight into his eyes, dilated pupils shining brightly for the first time that night and I hiss when he thrusts inside me, nails scratching at his back, and he goes faster and I’m high on him, on the drugs, on the feeling of wildfire travelling through me in this moment of our apocalypse. His lips, my lips, they’re burning us and everything is amplified, I see colours, red and blue and vivid purple, napalm in our bodies, and I can’t get enough of him and when we come, I don’t want to let him go. 

Sirius lets out a strangled groan when I clench around him, and the way he says my name, low, husky, like I've never heard before, it’s a sound I could listen to over and over again. 

He finally steps away from me, fixing his clothes, avoiding my eyes and I reach out, take his hand and make him stop. “What?” he says, again in the dead voice and I feel cold all of a sudden, but I can’t give this up, not now, not when I feel like I could’ve jumped from that tower tonight, if only to feel something. 

“Sirius,” I start, and it’s like I hit him with a curse, the way he jerks away from me, but not far enough, I take a step towards him, and again, there’s a pull between us and he grabs my head, kissing me roughly, like he can’t stop himself, and I can’t stop either, and I don’t want to. 

There is something in him, in this, that makes me want to let him ruin me. 

* * *

The world burns around us while we meet in abandoned classrooms, empty bathrooms, eyes filled with secret glances, anticipation, pining, and when we’re together we burst into flames, leaving only ashes of all our mistakes behind us. 

His fingers are littered with silver and gold when he touches me, eyes filled with constellations I’ve never seen before and his laughter, the one I never hear outside our own universe, his laughter is my doom. 

Sirius is a perfect storm, he burns bright and we chase visions together, riding the high, knowing it won’t last, nothing lasts, we’re running out of time, and the guilt will eat him up from inside, and one of us will die, or both of us, and there’s nothing better than the adrenaline of knowing it might be our last time mixed with the rush of us crashing together, into each other. 

And maybe there are no regrets when the alternative is to be broken alone.

* * *

It’s Christmas break and we’re the only two people in Gryffindor tower, holed up together in his dorm. I lie in his bed and watch him in the low glow of the winter sunrise, his skin a battlefield of old scars and stunning tattoos. Sirius’ eyes flutter open and he catches me tracing my fingers along a thestral in flight, across one of his scars, curse-scars, I know, but I never ask about them. I know enough about his family that I don't have to ask. 

“Hey,” he says and I know he’s still high because he seems happy, yesterday’s news not yet fully realised in his head, but I can’t erase the newspaper article of another muggleborn classmate murdered in cold blood, and I shiver, wondering if I'm next, if my next trip to Hogsmeade might be my last. 

Sirius reaches for me and pulls me closer, embracing me in a tight hug, burying his face in my hair while tears stream down my face. He whispers something I don’t hear and falls silent. I pull back and I brush away the tears, avoiding his gaze, feeling torn and ripped to pieces. 

“Can I ask you something?” Sirius murmurs and I nod, hoping he’d do something, anything, to make me forget about the pain and fear and the terrible loneliness I find myself drowning in whenever I have a second to think, to be still, and all I want is to not feel so fucking alone, and numb, and scared. 

“What… How are you the same as me?” It sounds incoherent but I know what he’s talking about, know he feels the same mirror image in myself and I almost don’t want to tell him. I’ve never talked about it, not with Marlene, not with Mary, and I feel like saying it out loud just makes it more real and more painful, but, somehow, I know Sirius won’t judge me, I know he knows what it's like, so I lie back down next to him and turn on my side so we’re facing each other. 

“My family… They hate me,” I mutter, inhaling sharply, the feeling of saying it out loud almost too much to bear and more tears roll down my cheek. I remember the yelling, the cursing, the perpetual threats, the accusations and judgement, the tears and running away to hide in dark alleys smelling of piss and beer. Sirius drums his fingers over my hip bone in a rhythm and that small touch feels like my entire universe.

“Why?” Sirius asks and then laughs bitterly, a sharp edge to his voice, “Sorry, I don’t know why I asked that, it’s fucked up.”

“No, it’s fine, I guess. It’s ironic, in a weird way… My family hates me for being a witch and most of the wizarding world hates me for being muggleborn, so really, I hit the fucking lottery,” I choke out, and Sirius leans over, kissing me slowly, like he wants to take my pain away, and for a moment, I feel like a different person.

I pull away from him and lean back on the bed, staring at the top of his four-poster. He enchanted it to show glowing constellations, and I stare at the Dog Star, eyes still burning. “I… I’m sorry,” I say, feeling ashamed and guilty. 

He lights up a cigarette and raises an eyebrow. “What for?” 

“James.” 

Something dark passes over his face, clouds his eyes and he’s silent for a long time. His cigarette is all finished when he speaks again. “This is just fucking, right?” Sirius says and I nod, not really wanting to agree with him but knowing it’s for the best. “So… James will… James doesn’t have to know, and it’s not like you’re together but James, he loved you first and… He and I aren’t… and… And I don’t deserve you, you’re better off without me…” He trails off, and I don’t ask for more, I don’t want to open old wounds, don’t want him to suffer even more, even though I know he’s been in love with James, but this, us, it’s something to keep us alive, and I don’t give a damn about anything these days.

Except him. 

* * *

We get drunk that night, do some blow, and the feel of his skin on mine is infuriating and everything we know fades in comparison to the way we make each other feel, wild, crazy and desperate for each other. It’s like our bodies developed a secret, they know each other so well, and one touch, one brush of fingers, we’re ruining each other a million times over. 

I wonder if I’ll ever feel happy again, on my own, without the feel of him, his gravity and pull keeping me sane. We might be sinners, but this doesn't feel like sin. 

* * *

“You’ve hijacked my heart,” Sirius whispers in my ear, his heartbeat drumming so loud, in sync with my own. 

We’d snuck out from another party, the same empty classroom where we fucked for the first time, and when I hear those words I feel my heart stop. 

“Sirius –” 

He doesn’t let me say anything, kissing me again, licking the sweat from the back of my neck and I let him wreck me.

He’s high, so high these days that he doesn’t know what he’s saying and I see him all in shades of grey, dripping with energy, then low, high again, and we’re locked in the dance of trying to stay still, together, when we should be running away from each other. 

We collapse into each other, fire and fighting, like the fall of a nation. 

This started off easy, but now we’re so fucking twisted that all our secret glances feel like glaring neon signs of what we are. Two wicked creatures.

* * *

I’m home for Easter and as I stare out the window into the foggy night a silent scream rips apart my heart when my thoughts run away from me, they spiral, replaying the yelling from my sister, my father, the smell of whisky on his breath overpowering while he towered over me when I said I’m going out, a list of endless slights, endless things that are wrong with me, his curses cutting deeper than any battle scar might. The hate radiates from them all in waves, washing over me, and even now, after all these years, I can’t deal with it and I want to run away, want the pain to stop. It feels like I’m staring into the abyss and I can’t look away, drawn to the deep darkness.  
  
Bright headlights appear on the horizon, the sound of a motorbike engine making my heart jump, as if I’ve suddenly woken up from my personal nightmare, and when it stops in front of the house, Sirius looking up at my window, a smile on his face, dark hair falling into his eyes, I’m rushing out the door, ignoring the yelling behind me.  
  
“I… –”  
  
“You don’t have to say anything,” he says, pulling me towards him and kissing me, deep and hard, and somehow, I feel a little less alone. “Let’s get out of here,” Sirius murmurs in my hair, husky voice making me feel slightly weak.  
  
I climb up behind him, wrapping my arms around his body and we speed off, the wind messing up my hair, and Sirius goes faster, so fast everything turns into a blur, and the rush is everything I need, the feeling of losing control so fucking intoxicating that I start laughing.  
  
After a while, we’re slowing down before stopping in front of a townhouse in London, and Sirius looks nervous as we walk up the stairs, but I take his hand and interlace our fingers, smiling up at him.  
  
“Sorry, it’s a bit of a mess,” Sirius says as he unlocks the door to the flat his uncle bought him, but I don’t notice, because the flat is a haven, the posters and the messy sofa and the record player, everything is so damnably Sirius that my eyes slightly water.  
  
We stand silent in the middle of the room, just staring at each other under the glow of moonlight, and in that moment, Sirius looks like he’s glowing, shining brightly before me and I can’t help myself but take a couple steps closer towards him, and the look in his eyes is clear, he’s not high and my heart beats furiously, as if it wants to jump out of my chest.  
  
He waves his wand and the music starts playing, expanding the magic of this secret moment in time, the two of us, alone, together, and when Sirius reaches for me, we’re suddenly dancing under sparkling moonlight.  
  
And maybe, secret moments aren’t enough and we’ll be left standing in the dust, but now, when Sirius crashes his lips on mine, now I don’t want to think about the ruins of us.

* * *

I see the way he looks at James, the way he tenses up each time we get away, hide in an alcove behind a tapestry, and I think he dies a little every time he kisses me.

I don’t want to know, I don’t want to face the truth that he’ll leave me and I’ll be left standing in the ashes of what could’ve been. Still, I’m barely breathing and Sirius is like oxygen. And maybe it’s selfish, knowing what my touch does to him, knowing my kisses hurt both of us, knowing those golden sparks between us will leave us in pieces, but I’m already far too broken to care.

Sirius is a better person than I am.

* * *

He leaves a trail of burning kisses up my thigh and I groan before pulling him up, kissing him hard. 

“I love you,” I say, accidentally, and I don’t realise what I’ve said until a couple seconds later and then I wish I could take it back because Sirius looks like he wants to punch the wall behind me, like me saying it means it's real, not just some fucked up fantasy.

Instead, his eyes, those black eyes I’ve fallen in love with, the same as mine, they cloud over and one single tear streaks down his cheek and I know we’re over. 

“I love you, too,” Sirius whispers before kissing me one last time, desperately, our need for each other almost overpowering, but the guilt, his guilt, mine over ruining everything, the guilt is worse. 

Even at our worst, we are burning bright, two flames, twisted and crooked and broken. 

We’ve run out of time and the space between us is wide and lonely and we both crash from our dwindling, terrible high.


End file.
